


The House By The Creek

by bagumbo



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autism, Found Family, Multi, Queer Themes, Religion, Trauma, past trauma, they all live in the same house fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:49:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27601657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bagumbo/pseuds/bagumbo
Summary: Caleb is one of many in a safe house for individuals in the witness protection program that aren’t particularly stable enough to live on their own. Living in the middle of no where can't be that bad. Living with seven strangers might be just that bad.Note: Wanted a “everyone lives together fic”.
Comments: 20
Kudos: 134





	1. Rest Stop

The music of the radio, over time, became nothing but static. There had been no stops from the airport to this mysterious location that he was to call “home” and Caleb was nothing but nerves. The woman who had picked him up, a towering woman of pale skin, dark hair, and mis-matched eyes, had said little to nothing. Which, on most days, would be fine. He would appreciate her quiet company had he not been bursting with questions that his mind demanded answers for.

But since she said little, he would too. He favored for staring out the window, watching the environment go from city to highway, the cities they passed becoming smaller and smaller in size. Emerald city was bright and loud and he was glad to leave it the moment his plane landed. Now he was met with farmland as far as the eye can see, buildings dotting about the landscape occasionally.

And he needed to pee. Badly.

“We will stop for a bit.” The woman said suddenly, clicking the music away. “Stretch our legs.” She turned the turn signal on, switching lanes carefully. Caleb appreciated how careful a driver she was.

“Understood.” He croaked out, clearing his throat. He still wasn’t used to talking. If she noticed the cracks in his voice, she said nothing of it. She said nothing else as they pulled off into a public stop, nothing much but a public restroom and a small patch of grass someone could call a park if they felt generous.

“I, uh, have to use the restroom.” Caleb announced before leaving the vehicle. The woman nodded, locking up the behemoth of a car Caleb knew not the name of. It was non-descript beyond its size, a dark grey. The single “coexist” bumper sticker was noted as he passed the back to reach the men’s room, trying not to acknowledge that the woman was indeed following him in.

The place was filthy and the smell could make him gag were he not expecting it. Not wanting to piss in front of his new acquaintance he took a stall. Sitting down he noticed he was shaking, doing the slightest of rocking movements. He tried to still himself, force the need to stim away. Took a deep breath of the awful air and let it out.

When business was done, he washed his hands in three successions. The woman, whom he really should be referring to her by name, shouldn’t he? The woman, Yasha, was getting strange looks from the other men but she held firm and Caleb found himself relieved he didn’t have to be alone in such a vulnerable position.

The crisp air of late September greeted him on the way out, and he felt relief for the first time since he was assigned a new place of lodging. Leaving the Institute was something he never thought to happen after…everything. But here he was, outside, tall evergreen trees shadowing away the little amount of sun that pierced the cloudy skies. Yasha followed behind him, looked to the sky.

“It’s going to rain.” She said quietly, almost with reverence. She didn’t push past him so much as give him the gentlest of waves for him to move towards the car. “We’re almost there, by the way.” Caleb nodded, nerves returning but his skin no longer crawled. He let his body sway. Just this once, he thought. Just this once.


	2. The Empty House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tour of the house before it gets loud.

They were not almost there. It took another 2 hours and 34 minutes, remnants of civilization giving way to the wilderness, the road rough with loose gravel on pavement and constant curves round the mountain side. The last 43 minutes had been cruising alongside a river, the dull teal water look calm and enticing. And it did rain, 25 minutes before they turned into a non-descript path. They were met with the sound of barking dogs that made Caleb seize up.

“The neighbors’” Yasha mumbled, turning left at a small fork in the road. He saw a few houses, most with bright paint jobs that stuck out against the green of the foliage and trees. It wasn’t until they came across a small wooden sign with a small elk carved into that read simply “House” did Yasha finally say “Here.” She pulled down another path, the gravel turning to a dark, fresh pavement. Caleb pried his gaze away from the side window to the front.

Beyond the pounding rain and constant windshield wipers he saw a surprisingly large wooden house. Details beyond that he could not make in the comfort of the car.

“The others should be out, so I will give you the tour.” Yasha turned off the car. “Oh, and uh, welcome home.” Before Caleb could answer she was out of the car, hood down from her jacket, rain pouring down on her. The sudden roll of thunder made Caleb jump.

It was 25 seconds before Caleb began to undo his seatbelt slowly. He wiped the sweat from his palms onto his sweat pants, grabbed his near empty backpack from his feet and stepped into the rain.

The smell hit first, fresh pine that reminded him of those car air fresheners only much richer. The sound overwhelmed him, the mix of rain and thunder and distant running water drowning out his thudding heartbeat. The house was next.

There was the entrance to a wheelchair ramp along the side, disappearing in a curve around the back of the house to a location he could not see. The steps to the small deck that held a single plastic chair was dry, the overhang having a wooden heart motif carved in. He noticed what could be declare a balcony for one on the second story that also had hearts carved into its railing. Just a quick jaunt away he could see what appeared to be a garage, another overhang propped up to cover an empty space. The door had a sign on it he could not read from his place stuck in the rain.

His clothing were getting soaked. It was 11:35 am and he was tired, the red eye flight not helping him in the slightest. He wanted to sleep for days but his nerves were alert and demanding him to be attentive to his surroundings. Yasha stood in the same spot too, looking at the house with a calm expression. He only found himself moving when Yasha’s heavy steps towards the front door grabbed his attention, her boots scraping against the welcome mat. The green door had a heart shaped window as well, stained glass in a simple geometric pattern.

Caleb stood under the tiny roof over the porch, gripping his arms. His thin sweatshirt of a jacket did next to nothing against the chill.

“I’ll start the fire soon.” Yasha said quietly, keys jostling the lock until the door opened with the tiniest of creaks. “Also make sure to take your shoes off. Uh, sorry, rules.” Caleb nodded, hit by the smell of old carpet and the essence of old people hitting him as he entered the dark house. Yasha sat heavily in a wooden chair, the dining room table being right by the door. Caleb kicked off his damp sneakers as Yasha took her time undoing her boots’ laces. Caleb stared down at the brown carpet patiently, listened to the tick tock of a mechanical clock in the nearby room. He knew it was 11:42 AM but the clock’s ticking calmed him. He counted along with the seconds in his head until he heard the squeak of a wooden chair and the heavy thump of boots to his right.

“Ok, um.” He looked up at Yasha whose expression was once of complication. She waved a hand at the open room. “This is the dining room. We usually don’t use it but you can if you want.” She pointed at a small desk in an awkward corner, a bulky computer sitting amidst piles of loose paperwork. “This is the house computer. Anyone can use it but people doing school work get priority. Some have laptops but yeah.” She pointed to the thin wooden door beside the desk. “That’s Fjord’s room. Another rule is not to go into other people’s rooms without permission from them.” She motioned him further in and he followed. The carpet felt soft beneath his socked feet. Another wooden door, wider this time, was stationed between “Fjord’s Room” and another thin door. She opened it, turned on the light and stepped aside.

He was met with a bathroom. It wasn’t large but the shower was one someone could sit in, had enough space on the tile to place a wheelchair inside. The toilet had bars on the sides and the sink was lower than he was used to. The sink’s countertop had a soap dish with a sea shell shaped soap, a toothbrush holder with a single toothbrush inside, and a tube of almost gone toothpaste. Another door, a sliding one, was adjacent to Fjord’s room.

“The mirror is on the back of the door.” Yasha flipped the light off and closed the door quietly. She briefly rapped her knuckles against the other thin door. “This will be your room.” She did not open it, instead walking past him into a kitchen. The carpet met laminate, the black and white boxes on the ground not quiet meeting up to the counters or corners in a satisfying manner. The appliances looked old and funky, and a small countertop with wheels sat in the middle of the room. The fridge had a tiny wall of mugs next to it, and a counter with a hanging rack of wine glasses as well. It was not dirty but food was everywhere (in closed containers but still).

“Kitchen.” Caleb heard himself say. He turned and saw a wrought iron spiral staircase leading up into the darkness. Yasha had yet to turn on and keep on lights. “Upstairs?”

“In a second.” She said, moving past the staircase. Caleb, again, followed without question.

The room had several couches of mismatching designs and patterns as well as a single chair that looked incredibly comfy. The back wall was nothing but glass sliding doors covered by blinds. There was a bulky television against the opposite wall and above it were several stained glass windows facing inside the house. He tried not to be alarmed by the deer heads hanging above the sliding doors, each with a sequin fedora placed between their antlers.

Yasha said nothing as she opened a wood stove in the corner, placed some wood in and struck a match. Caleb watched the fire disappear, watched the glow coming from the opening of the stove, the crackling of wood distracting him from the rest of the décor. The metal hatch squeaked as Yasha closed it and stood straight.

“That should warm the house.” She said to someone? Oh, Caleb thought. Probably me. Caleb nodded in response, tried to ignore the crackling of wood as Yasha moved to the staircase. Caleb gripped the cold iron a bit too hard, the carpeted steps feeling slippery now instead of comforting. They went up into an even darker space. She grasped a plastic heart against the wall and pulled down. The lights above turned on, revealing a narrow hall. She pointed to their right. “Caduceus’ Room”. She pointed up the continuation of the staircase. “Veth’s Loft.” They went further down the hall, Caleb noting the iron bard hiding draping sheets above, the little landing that the staircase led to. There was a cowbell hanging from the iron fence.

“Mollymauk’s room” Caleb followed her gaze to a few small steps that led up to a door with a poster covered in glitter that read “Fuck Off”. She turned only slightly, opening a sliding door and turning the lights on. Caleb peered in and saw an even smaller bathroom, the dark wood walls covered in duck themed décor. She flipped the switch off and closed the door. Just a few steps more and she looked at him. “The girls’ room. I’ll let you in but don’t touch anything ok?” Caleb nodded, clasped his hands behind his back and waited to be let in.

It was huge. The pale-yellow walls had portions covered in murals of flowery fields, three twin beds settled in their own little space. There was an exercise bike against the wall, a writing desk, a reading nook with a bookshelf (Caleb felt a pang of want for reading material), 2 walk in closets, each bigger than the bathroom he just saw. Yasha led him to the sliding glass door onto a covered balcony. From here he could see a creek in the distance, water rushing swiftly. The flash of lightning made him jump again. Caleb turned around to the biggest bedroom he’d ever seen and nodded again. Yasha said nothing as she opened the door and turned off the light once again. Caleb made his way past the large form, down the staircase, grasping the cold rails once more.

His room, in comparison, and in all honesty, was shit. The door opened into a narrow room with cheap linoleum flooring. The lights buzzed and shone harshly on a twin bed that pressed in the far corner of the thin room, the bed made up with floral sheets and grandmotherly pillows. The short dresser next to it was a pale yellowing wood, and the lamp on top of it turned on an annoyingly dim light. He hated the flooring. There were windows made of frosted glass that were too small to really have much sun shine through. A random sink took up too much space, and the small wall mirror was clean but old, cloudy in spots. Caleb set his backpack on the mattress, placed his hand on it.

It was too firm. Great.

“So yeah, that’s the house. The garage outside is the therapy room and there is a lean-to by the creek but…yeah.” Caleb turned the light off himself, opening his mouth to say something.

Whatever he said was lost to the loud sounds of chattering, slamming of car doors, and screaming laughter.

Great. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This house is actually based on a real one my grandparents' lived in that I thought was suitable :) Let me know if you like any of the details~


	3. No Naps Only Music

Caleb did not greet them, not at first. No, he sat in the darkness of his room on the too firm bed and waited for the noise to die down. For the loudness to calm itself.

It didn’t happen. The noise simply went from a condensed point, the door then kitchen then door again, until the foot steps dispersed into different portions of the house. What was chatter turned to loud music thumping against the thin walls, a mix of sounds arguing between poppy beats to intense guitar rifts and booming bass.

He barely heard the knock on his door after 2 hours and 32 minutes of both overstimulation of sound and under stimulation of sitting and doing nothing. But he did hear it and went to the door stiffly. He opened it, just an inch, looking forward and not seeing anyone at first. He looked down, saw deep brown eyes peering up at him curiously.

The woman was short. It may have been rude but that was the first note in his mind. Secondly was the outfit, a mix of bright yellows and simple browns against tanned skin. A necklace of buttons both matched and contrasted with the mismatch buttons serving as earrings, the medium the same but colours clashing. Her eyes seemed cautious and he tried not to fold in on himself. He failed, as per usual, shoulders hunched and head down. He barely saw his reflection by the clouded mirror, the silhouette of man turning kicked puppy.

“Hello there.” She smiled lightly though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She held out a hand. “I’m Veth.” Caleb looked at the hand, knew he had to shake it. His hand shook as he reached through the crack, opening it up just a little more.

“Ca- Caleb.” He stuttered on the name he’s rehearsed over and over. Her hand was warm rough with calluses. He let go, let his hand fall to his side.

“Nice to meet you Caleb. We usually order pizza on Fridays.” She fidgeted with the edge of her blouse. “Is there a kind you’d like or just whatever?”

“Oh.” Caleb blinked. The institute only ever served cheese or pepperoni. His stomach twisted, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since yesterday. “Cheese, preferably. If that is ok, of course.” He said quietly. He worried she couldn’t hear him, that he’d have to talk louder over the music. But she simply smiled and nodded.

“Of course it’s ok. And, if you feel up to it, the others would like to meet you soon. Maybe over dinner?” Caleb gripped the handle of the door, kept his nerves as out of sight as possible. Tried to breathe.

And he nodded, not because he wanted to or felt up to it or anything of the sort. No, he had an obligation. They were letting him intrude, the least he could do was meet them. And she nodded too.

“See you at dinner, Caleb.”

Dinner was not announced for another 4 hours. He forced himself to put his few possessions in the dresser drawers, searched amidst all 4 of his outfits for something suitable to meet people in. Alas, none of his identical outfits screamed to him so he settled for his current clothing. He looked in the mirror for a long while, put water in his greasy hair as an attempt to seem somewhat clean. Those actions took all of 30 minutes.

The rest of the time was spent staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep due to the noise, unable to exit the room because of the threat of new faces, and unable to do anything of importance.

At the 3 hour mark the music turned off, replaced by footsteps and loud chatter once more. It approached his door and he seized up, held his breath. But it was gone quick enough, the door slamming shut.

And it was quiet. He let his breath out, head feeling light. Carefully he got up, shuffled his socks over the uncomfortable flooring and opened the door a crack. Lights were still on but the noise was gone.

His mouth opened to say hello, a question to the air. No sound came out. He cleared his throat, tried again. A wheeze escaped him and he coughed.

He needed to practice talking more. Since he recovered his senses, his voice, he had remained too quiet to return to a normal dictation. Voice temporarily lost he left the room, looked around for sign of life.

The smell was the first thing he noticed, the smell of something flowery coming through the old people smell. The sound of a tea kettle going off and gentle footsteps following after it. And then, there he was. A man, a lithe tower of pale skin and lightly coloured cloth, a shock of pink hair hanging from his head. The kettle’s screaming was replaced by a gentle humming of a deep voice and Caleb stood frozen.

“Would you like some tea?” He heard the voice say, though the man did not look at him. Caleb blinked, unsure if he was the target of the question. “The others went into town again, for the pizza. Might as well enjoy the peace while you can.” He looked up now, a gentle smile on his lips.

Caleb tried to say an affirmative but came up with a cough again. He settled for nodding, approached carefully. The man took two mugs and poured tea in them with ease. The carpet under Caleb’s feet met with the tile and he stood at the edge of the kitchen. The man with pink hair handed him a mug and he took it, the heat stinging slightly against his hands. But he endured it without comment.

“You must be Caleb. I’m Caduceus, Caduceus Clay.” The man passed him to the living room, sat on the couch beside the comfy looking chair. The man blew on his tea and hummed a slight tune again.

“Ja.” He croaked out, taking a sip. The tea burned. He ignored the pain, swallowed the too hot liquid and stood awkwardly.

And they were quiet. They simply existed in the moment; no more words exchanged. Over the minutes Caleb felt for the first time here a slight sense of peace.

The silence was broken by a car horn. 


	4. Arnold's Pizzeria Pizza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fresh meal and fresh faces.

His burned taste buds could not decipher whether the pizza was good or not. The texture didn’t make him squirm so that was something. It was easier to focus on the mechanics of chewing and swallowing then trying to follow any one train of dialogue floating about the room.

He was allowed the comfy chair, Caduceus swapping with him once the others had entered. He sunk into the comfort as he looked at the group.

They were… well something. Beyond Caduceus were two others with wild hair; a woman with blue hair that bobbed to and fro as she talked, her hands moving in excitement wit her, and a masculine figure with a wave of purple. The woman, Jester, was pretty, that was for certain. The masculine one, Mollymauk, was covered in tattoo sleeves that creeped up to his neck and piercing plaguing his poor ears. Caleb even caught a glimpse of a tongue ring as he had stuck a tongue out at the tanned woman in a crop top.

Beauregard, or “Beau”, stuck her middle finger up in Mollymauk’s direction, tearing into a meat covered pizza. She seemed the opposite of a charmer but Caleb was the last to judge those sorts of things. Wouldn’t necessarily stop him though.

Lastly, amidst the new faces, was a dark-skinned man with a solid frame. The others gave the man space on the cramped couch, and Caleb tried to only briefly note the way the man, Fjord, rubbed at his knee, or the wooden cane he kept close by.

And they were loud, but they demanded nothing from him. The conversation of introductions were brief, only a name really and the fact that Mollyauk and Beauregard were self-proclaimed Assholes. Caduceus, whom Caleb was already beginning to see as a calming force, introduced him to the group. And Caleb forced a smile.

Beyond that, he remained silent. Chew chew chew.

This wasn’t too different from the institute, when the patients were all to eat in the dining hall. Only instead of cardboard for pizza he was burning his mouth on “Arnold’s Pizzeria Pizza”. Chew chew.

“So, Caleb, whatcha in here for?” Caleb swallowed harshly, trying not to cough as he silently choked. He took a sip of tea, tried to play it off naturally.

“I’m sorry?” He said once he could find his voice. He looked around, not sure who had called his name.

“Like it’s chill if you don’t want to say anything but like we’re all fucked up so might as well.” Mollymauk said with a shrug, taking another bite of meaty pizza. “Besides,” he said with food in his mouth, “we’re housemates now. Should know at least a little about each other.” Caleb folded his hands together, tried not to grip them too tightly lest his knuckles go even whiter.

“I am…unsure what…” Caleb cleared his throat. “Can you give me an example?” The purple haired man stood swiftly and Caleb did his best not to jump.

“Sure!” Mollymauk bowed in a dramatic fashion. “Mollymauk Tealeaf, though you know that.” Standing straight he flung up a peace sign. “Two years old baby! Well, mentally anyway. Can’t remember shit before that.” He let his hands flop to his sides. “Queer as fuck, so don’t pull any bullshit about that. There’s more, of course, but you can hear that in group therapy.” With that he sat heavily on Beau’s legs, the woman having tried to steal more space since he had left the couch.

“Oh, fuck you!” Beau hollered, kicking him off. Mollymauk met the anger with laughter. And then things got quieter. They were waiting. Demanding even.

“W-Well,” He cleared his throat. His voice sounded hoarse. “I am Ca-Caleb. Widogast, that is. Um,” he fidgeted with his sleeve, rocked back and forth only once. “I am unused to speaking so forgive me if I am too quiet. I…like to read? Almost anything really, but particularly academic texts.” He took a slice of pizza, full but needing an excuse to stop talking.

“We have some books in our room! Nothing like school books though.” Jester’s chipper voice chimed in. “Plenty of romance novels if your interested.” She wagged her eyebrows at that. Chew.

“I have some textbooks from last semester you can take a look at.” Caduceus offered. “Funeral science and history on religious practices mostly.” Caleb nodded along. Chew Chew.

“There is a library in town but it is small and kind of out dated.” Beau said with a wave of her hand. “But they sell old or donated books at the Saturday market.” Chew Chew Chew.

“Oh! Will you be joining us tomorrow? The market is so fun!” Caleb swallowed. “There are like all the little local artists selling their pieces and stuff too! Oh, and baked goods too!” Jester’s beamed a smile. “There is even a soap vender so you can get some to bath and stuff.”

“Jester, that’s rude.” Veth chided. Caleb felt his hair in his hands, a bit too long and greasy. It’d only been a week.

“But maybe he just doesn’t have soap! And like, bathing is super good for mental health and stuff, right?” Jester folded her arms. “It’s made of goat’s milk I think? Or you could get a goat fur sweater.”

“I…maybe another Saturday.” Caleb said quietly. Jester opened her mouth, loke like she had much more to say. A hand on her shoulder and a not so subtle shake of the head from Fjord caused the mouth to close into a pout.

Caleb spent the rest of the meal staring into an empty tea cup, escaping only when the clock chimed 8.


	5. The Roaring Creek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Midnight cries on the couch.

The house, even in the wee hours of the night, was loud. Not because of the sleeping denizens, no. Not that.

The roar of the creek was unsettling, like a lion refusing to rest. Demanding attention. Caleb laid in his too firm bed under a heavy comforter, grateful for the warmth it provided but distracted by the texture of the comforter’s top. He couldn’t decide whether he liked it or not. Here, in the dark, he could ignore the floral patterns and focus on the ridges and bumps embroidered fabric provided. Either way, it was a feeling he hadn’t felt since…

Oh. He disliked it now. He stopped touching it, the sensation tainted by the past. Squirmed his hands underneath the covers and sighed. The sigh’s sound was consumed by the creek’s roar.

He could lay here all night. He could. But, what other chance would he have to be out of this room without others’ prying eyes?

Was he even allowed?

No one told him otherwise so he flipped back the covers, felt his bare feet hit the floor. EW. He put on socks.

Shuffling out of the room, he peered around. Seeing no one he took a risk and stepped onto the soft carpet.

He didn’t hear her crying. Not until he was already in the living room, search for left behind books abandoned upon the sound. He could slip away maybe? He couldn’t tell which girl it was, not in the void of darkness.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Came a wobbly voice, sniffling. There was shifting on the couch, the pile of pillows actually being a person. Fuck. No quiet escape.

“Apologies for disturbing you.” Caleb whispered, careful not to wake the house. The woman laughed heartily, voice still strained.

“You didn’t do anything. But, hmm,” She grew quiet. “Do…you mind sitting in here? With me? Just for a bit.” Caleb blinked, the last remnants of fatigue making itself known again. He nodded in the darkness and sat on the opposite edge of the couch. This couch was soft, sunk low as he sat. He clasped his hands.

The roar of the creek did not end, and the woman beside him had grown quiet but the occasional whimper could be heard over the angry waters. He scoured his brain for something, anything to say. A distraction. He cleared his throat.

“What was the last book you read?” He tried not to wince at how sad his voice sounded. He sounded pathetic. Stupid Stupid Caleb. She is crying and you talk about books?

“I don’t read much anymore. I guess a romance novel? Jester recommended it. Under the Blue Moon?” He could see out of the corner of his eye her shift again. “You?”

“Oh. The Tanakh.”

“Never heard of it.”

“The Hebrew Bible.” He clarified.

“Oh, you’re Jewish?”

“Ah. No.” He opened his mouth to explain further but nothing came out. The image of the woman in the institute who brought him back to his senses came to the forefront of his mind. “It was recommended to me.” He settled on.

“Ok.” It was quiet for a bit, but he heard no more whimpers or cries. Good, ok, don’t fuck it up.

“What about television? Or movies? It’s been a while since I have seen any to be honest but I’m curious what is out now.” He wasn’t curious, not really. Visual media was never his passion.

“How…Sorry what was the last thing you watched?” Her question had an undertone to it but Caleb couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“In Theatres?” He saw a nod. “Life of Pi. I preferred the book but…” He went quiet as he saw the light of a phone come into vision, the tear streaked face of Veth illuminated. He watched her eyes go wide ever briefly before she attempted a poker face. “I am aware it was a few years ago.”

“Eight, yeah.” The light was gone and Caleb blinked, the darkness consuming him once more. “Sorry, was just curious. Been mostly watching random Hallmark movies. We don’t get a lot of channels and streaming doesn’t work great.”

“Ok.” The roll of thunder came in, rain once again beginning to hit the windows. “It rain often?”

“Almost always yeah.”

“Good to know.” Caleb cleared his throat. They sat like that, Caleb clearing his throat once in a while and Veth, well Caleb couldn’t see. Not until the morning sun began to rise and his eyes felt the urge to close. The creek’s anger had become background noise, not as assaulting to the senses as before.

“Better get back to our rooms.” Veth said quietly. “Before the others have questions.” Caleb nodded as she stood, the woman not looking at him. “Thank you, Caleb.” He nodded again, stood, and returned to his bedroom. He did not look back at her but felt a glimmer of pride. He hadn’t fucked it up.


	6. Cuckoo

Caleb, exhaustion taking him, slept. Dreams of things he remembers, memories of a time where he was soulless. Days of people watching in sterile halls with white walls, voice gone and mind nearly blank. He remembers it all. Always has.

It’s not the saddest thing about him but he does awaken to a damp pillow and bleary eyes. He wipes the tears from his slumber away silently, looks at the tiny window. What little light that comes through tells him he hasn’t slept the entire day away. But the music is gone. He puts on socks before setting his feet down, not bothering to make the bed as he shuffles towards the door. He listens through it, hearing a soft murmur beyond the walls.

You can’t hide in here forever Widogast. You will go crazy.

Well. Crazier.

He steps out of the room slowly, the sound of unfamiliar voices coming from the living room. He forces himself further, goes to the kitchen for water.

Grabbing a random mug (white with a heart saying Best Grandma) he filled it with water.

“Hey, What’s up?” He jumps, not having heard the sound of Beau’s footsteps. He nearly drops the mug, instead spilling water.

“S-Sorry.” He stammered.

“No big deal.” She said as Caleb scrambled to clean the mess with a kitchen towel. She watched him; arms crossed. Caleb felt her eyes on him, eyes he would not meet. “Also, since I’m not sure anyone has told you, Group Therapy is tomorrow.” Caleb blinked at the ground, standing up with a damp towel.

“Oh.”

“Just thought to say something since no one told me shit when I got here.” She shrugged.

“Thank you.” Caleb said quietly, cleared his throat again. He placed the towel lightly over the sink’s edge and refilled his cup. Took a sip. She was still watching. He took another sip, stared to her right shoulder. “Anything else?” He asked after a moment of awkward silence. She shrugged again.

“Nah, just trying to get a read on you.” She waved a hand. “See if you’re a dick or not.”

“Any conclusions?” He asked, taking a sip.

“Jumpy. And you’re probably hiding in your room so much cause of nerves and not cause of disliking us. Cause the second one would be a hella dick move.” Caleb hummed, feeling himself fold like a deck of cards.

“My poker face is rusty.” He said, voice crackling. He drank more water, hoped it would help. She didn’t say anything in parting, simply returned to the living room. The click of something electronic and the sound of dialogue came through. Ah, she was watching television.

He stood, cup empty and unsure if he was allowed to join her. Probably not. He went anyway, stood in the very far corner that could still see the screen. It was the Hallmark channel. He stood for about 10 minutes, watched a teary love confession between a man and woman. They kissed under mistletoe.

“Christmas movie in September?” He heard himself say, nearly bit his tongue. He stood for another 5 minute and 26 seconds before beginning to exit.

“Oh, by the way. Catch!” He turned in time for something to hit his chest. He fumbled with it, felt something akin to glossy paper. Looking at the thing he found he was holding a book. “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Just finished it, it’s good.” Caleb blinked down at the cover, turned dog eared pages between his fingers.

Birds of a feather, him and this book huh.

“Thank you, Beauregard.” She nodded, returned her gaze to the television. Caleb retreated; book grasped tightly.

Finally, something to fucking read.


	7. Goat Soap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slight spoiler for "One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest" but it happened in like the first 20 pages so. Still, a warning just in case. Also, Caleb has a thing about texture.

Caleb read for a bit, felt anxiety over the narrative of tiny men being in the walls, until he truly needed a break from the literature. The noise and music had resumed over the time spent huddled over the too dim light of the lamp, a muffled “Home!” announced too close to his rom for comfort. He did not enjoy living by the front door, at least not for this house. It did not die down after he put down the book, hands fidgeting with the comforter until he remembered he didn’t like the textures anymore.

Did he dare go into the den? Escape the too tiny room that may or may not have me in the walls at the risk of being pounced by a wild Jester or Mollymauk? He took a deep breath, and then another. He set his socked feet down on the floor, wishing he had carpet or maybe a rug instead of this irritating floor, and rinsed his hands in the sink. Three times in succession, of course. He still had no soap.

His hair felt gross as he strung a hand through it. Maybe he should bathe. In the middle of the night, when there are no crying women. No eyes to see him. That’d be good.

He opened the door a smidge, not peering out, only listening. The television was on from what he could tell, and more than one person was watching, the sounds of two voices clashing.

“Really? We could watch anything and we have on baseball?” Came Mollymauk’s voice, offended by America’s pastime.

“No. We could watch this, the fucking News, or the Hallmark channel.” He heard the drawl of Fjord retort in irritation. Ah, an argument. He went to close the door but was stopped by a foot coming into the sliver of space.

“Cay-leb~!” Jester was there, too close too soon and peering at him through the crack. “I got you a present Cay-leb~” Her voice was a sing song that spelled trouble but Caleb relented. He opened the door an inch further.

“Hello Jester.” He cleared his throat. It felt tight. Her sudden appearance had unsettled whatever nerves he may have had at the moment. “A…present?”

“Yeah!” She held out a paper gift bag that had an illustration of a goat. “I like didn’t know what scents you like so I got you some to choose from!” He waited a beat before gently taking the bag. The weight felt like a burden. “And like I asked Fjord and he said it is totally chill to use the downstairs shower so like don’t even ask ya know!” She grinned and Caleb forced a smile. He didn’t feel insulted so much as embarrassed that a woman so much younger than him had taken it upon herself to be his hygiene police.

Ok, maybe he was a little insulted at the premise. But…

He took out a random bar, kept his face neutral as his hand met a rough soap with scratchy texture. He sniffed it, the cinnamon being an assault rather than a comfort to the senses.

“Thank you, Jester.” He said with a smile, though even he could hear the flatness in his voice. Her smile wavered and she rummaged her own hand in the bag.

“Like, my favorite was the Black Berry one the colour is so cute and-here! Smell!” Caleb could not help but smell the bar shoved in his face. It was pleasant, and he took it gently, rubbed his fingers over the smooth soap bar. The purplish swirls were ‘cute’ he supposed.

“Thank you, Jester.” He tried again, voice sounding less flat but smile straining on his face. “Let me…sort them out. If I may.”

“Oh yeah totally!” She didn’t move her foot. Caleb took a step back and Jester watched him. Eyes on him but unable to dismiss her subtly, he spent some agonizing moments sorting the soap bars. The Cinnamon one was the worst by far. He placed it on the left sink edge. The Black Berry was the better option. He put that on the right sink edge. There were 3 more, a cherry (good smell bad texture), basil (Good texture bad smell), and apple (middle of the road. Tolerable). He placed them in order of tolerability, left worst, right best. By the end they all lined his tiny sink, and his hands felt awkwardly sticky.

He used the apple to wash his hands. Jester watched, humming.

“I’m glad you like them! Fjord tried to talk me out of it but yeah it’s no problem.” She waved a hand in his direction. “Anyway, we’re like totally gonna play a board game later if you want to join and stuff. Oh! And dinner is like, whatever, but if you need help finding something don’t be afraid to ask!” He opened his mouth but she was already bounding off.

His stomach reminded him that it was 5:49 PM and he hadn’t had more than water today.

He tried to slink out of his room again, hoping Jester had truly bounced off. She had, to the living room, if her cheers of “Here batter batter!” were anything to go by. He stepped quietly, said nothing. He needed to clear his throat but did his best to ignore it, the discomfort slowly growing as he made food as quietly as possible. A sandwich and an orange.

It took him longer than he would have thought, but having not made your own food in 4 years does that. That and the kitchen was still a mystery to him, opening drawers to find silverware and cupboards for a plate. That and someone was watching. He didn’t know who, didn’t acknowledge it. But he felt it.

Head down he took the food to his room, corner of his eye revealing Veth sitting on the staircase, quietly watching. He relaxed only slightly. He was not as concerned with her watching. Which was…weird. But he had seen her cry, he could afford to be a little vulnerable. Even if it just was his existence in general.

The orange was bland and the sandwich unsatisfying beyond doing the basic necessity of sustenance. And that was ok, he’d had worse.

He did not join the boardgame that night. He sat in bed, avoiding his book that made him paranoid and wished it were not only 7:03 p.m. He wished he didn’t have to think at all. He looked out the tiny window, light slowly leaving his space.

He tried to sleep. Failed, but tried.


	8. The Darkness of Rain

He did not cry in his sleep, instead awakening at 3:12AM to the sort of alertness that was not all there but destined to stay awake. Like a phantom, never resting.

So, he showered. He used the apple soap. It glided smooth enough to not catch on his scars and he used the suds of left behind as a sort of shampoo. It was awkward in a sense, showering so close to another person’s bedroom. The double doors did not comfort him. But quick as could be, he hastily dressed once he could be claimed clean. Too soon apparently since his clothes began to dampen even as he put them on.

The shower off, he could now hear the heavy rain fall, nature’s shower if you will, eating against the house. He was unsure if he liked it or not. Either way he’d have to adjust to it.

Adjust to all of it.

Leaving the bathroom, he heard nothing but rain. And he was cautiously curious. What would it be like, to stand in the rain with a purpose? He padded out towards the front door. He was already wet, might as well?

The door was locked. He fiddled with it for a bit too long, eyes unable to see well in the darkness. But it clicked open eventually and he stepped out into the frigid air. He was met with more darkness, the kind of lightlessness only the middle of no where had to offer. O moon or stars either as his bare feet padded onto cement and gravel, unpleasant but that was not the focus right now. No, only rain clouds, wetness, and cold. So cold.

He felt numb. He wondered if he would drown standing here, staring up at a sobbing sky. He began to feel its sorrow through the numbness, his heart heavy as his body grew older and colder.

He did not jump much when a hand was on is elbow, a quiet curse on someone else’s lips. But he was tugged away from the darkness, away from the crying sky, away from his own tears. He felt his feet hit wet wood, then dry wood, shuffled further onto soft carpet that rapidly became damp.

The door close behind him and the hand gently pulled him further inside the warmth of the house. The rain was not as loud, not as consuming.

“Christ, just. Just wait here.” The voice had a drawl to it but in the moment, Caleb could not place it. The hand was gone from him, the steady grip replaced by his own trembling. But he obeyed, stood on the carpet in the darkness. “How long were you out there?” Came the voice again, a quiet whisper. He felt something akin to fabric on his head and ah, a towel. He reached up for it but was batted away, the hand from before beginning to gently dry his head off. Caleb cleared his throat. The voice went quiet too, the towel wiping away water from his face next. The hand drooped the towel over Caleb’s shoulders, the voice sounding worried more and more concerned. “You need new clothes.”

“I don’t think it is a good time for clothes shopping.” Caleb heard himself say and felt a little less distant as he heard the slight chuckle. The drawl slipped away and something foreign came through the darkness.

“I’m glad you-“the voice cleared it’s throat and there was a drawl again. “I’m glad you have a sense of humor. Glad to see it. But I meant something dry.” Caleb felt the fabric on his arms, soaking wet and freezing cold. “Do I have permission to enter your room?” Caleb nodded, not because he wanted the voice to go there but to please the voice. He liked the voice, in this moment. Most of the time voices were not this nice.

Feet padded away and a creak of his door broke the relative quiet. Was his door that loud all the time? He heard steps on linoleum, that horrid, awful, floor, and then a drawer opening. It was too loud to make sense to him but it beat louder than the rain.

“He really does need new clothes.” Was whispered far from him by the drawl. A losing of dresser drawers. More pitter patter of bare feet. A hand tapping him on the shoulder. “I’ gonna give you clothes and turn around ok? Usually Id give ya more privacy but you seem pretty out of it so safety first ok?” Caleb nodded not understanding. But he took the familiar fabric and began to strip. “Christ let me turn around first.” The voice wobbled a bit as if said in motion.

Dressing was comforting, to strip the coldness of a watery death with the dryness of a potentially warm life.

Widogast, you are being too optimistic.

Ah, that was a not nice voice.

“Done?” Interrupted the nicer voice, and Caleb nodded. No response came.

“Yes.” He croaked out forcibly. There was a shift and he could see the shadow now, eye adjusting to the darkness. It was but an inch or two taller.

“Good. Need help getting to bed?” Caleb shook his head. “Need to…talk?” The voice sounded reluctant. Caleb shook his head. “Night then. Don’t go outside again, at least not till it’s light ok?” Caleb didn’t answer as the shadow patted the hand on his shoulder, weight leaning on him for just a second before limping away.

“Thank you.” He whispered too quiet for anyone but himself to hear. No answer came so he went to his room, traversed over icky flooring and snuggled under a thick comforter.

He awoke at 7:15 AM to a feminine yell of “Why the fuck is the carpet wet?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The voice/hand/shadow was Fjord btw.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by 2 others (I highly recommend checking them out!).  
> The Friends We Made Along The Way: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20010271/chapters/47379631  
> The Marion's Recovery Home: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26043679/chapters/63333460


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